Blessing in Disguise
by Cold War Takeover
Summary: Canada is now stuck in a skin-tight black dress--that his family forced him to wear? What will our beloved egotistical Prussian think of this developement...? Prunada Rated T for nose-periods and Prussia's no-control hands Dedicated to PoisonJellyBeans


Why?

Why was it that, when his family finally paid attention to him for longer than a few seconds, it was to do something so horrifying and embarrassing as this?

Matthew (AKA Canada) stared numbly at his reflection.

He now stood with his hair straightened, which wasn't too bad. In fact, it kind of looked good. And he was thankful Al stood up for him when the two older nations (Francis and Arthur) had attempted to straighten that God-forsaken curl. (Al did have Nantucket, after all...)

But that was the icing on the cake.

Matthew silently let his eyes travel down the reflection.

How they had succeeded, Matthew would never know, but they had managed to pull a skin-tight black dress over his girly figure. And, while Alfred and Arthur held him down, France had even shaved poor Mattie's legs. And now, decorating the non-manly limbs, were fishnet stockings.

And—he would never know how women survived—dark black heels were placed—no, _duct-taped_—to his feet.

And Mattie had, indeed, tried to pull them off.

Damn America and his fucking awesome (_annoying_, Mattie corrected) taping skills.

Mattie sighed and attempted to pull off the dress.

_Attempted_, not _succeeded_.

Giving up, the poor northern nation waddled into the kitchen to make a comforting batch of pancakes.

"HEY!!!!!! LET THE AWESOME ME IN, MATTIE!!!"

Matthew made a split-second decision while he flipped the half-baked hotcake over—leave the pancakes to possibly burn or let Prussia enter his house unadvised.

Oh, who was he kidding? He cared about the pancakes more than his home. Besides, he could always clean the entry way up...

And a thought gnawed at his consciousness. _How did Prussia know to arrive right now, when he was only just now starting the pancakes...?_

Apparently, Matthew could be oblivious. Because the thought—that the known-for-several-perverted-actions man was about to see Mattie in a _dress—_never crossed his mind.

"Just let yourself in, Gilbert!" Matthew called.

Unfortunately, Gilbert took that as an excuse to kick the door down.

_It wasn't even locked..._Matthew mentally whined.

"Kesesese!! Save some of those pancakes for—"

Matthew didn't have to turn around to know that Prussia, who was now in the kitchen, had just jaw-dropped.

Matthew burned bright red and, after gingerly putting the now-finished pancake on a plate that currently occupied two other identical treats, turned around and began to stutter and speed-speak a reply.

"Th-this-isn't-what-it-looks-like!!! Francis, Arthur, and Alfred decided to—"

Matthew shut up as he saw the hand that attempted to cover the older-ex-nation's now bleeding nose.

"Are you—" Matthew gasped. The man couldn't possibly look _that _good...

Gilbert's cheeks now flushed a deep red. "N-no!! My nose is...just...on its period..."

Matthew's eye twitched. There had to be better excuses than that...

"G-Gilbert...that is entirely (retarded) impossible."

Gilbert shook his head. "No it's not. Obviously I'm living proof!!" Gilbert grabbed a clean rag off of the kitchen table and held it to his nose. While not looking at Canada.

Canada sighed and turned back around as he finished cooking the pancakes.

Gilbert, after a few awkward seconds, began to angrily jabber on about how "West" had kicked him out of the house for trying to tell Francis and Antonio about Ludwig's hidden porn stash. (If Mattie had been drinking something, he would've done a spit-take)

Mattie was well-aware of the tingly feeling in his neck that meant someone was staring at him.

Mattie thought, _And that was my favorite washcloth, too..._

Gilbert seemed to have managed to stop his nose-period and was waiting eagerly as Matthew placed a plate with a rather large stack of maple-syrup-drenched hotcakes in front of the German ex-nation.

Gilbert only glanced at the Canadian as he began to (rather unattractively) scarf down the sugary treats.

But he was all eyes when Mattie dropped his fork and leaned down to pick it up.

That, my friend, is what set the German (no, _Prussian_) off.

In almost the same second, Matthew found himself pressed against the wall.

He almost gasped aloud as he realized that Gilbert—who Matthew considered to be his best friend—had his lips pressed against Matthew's.

Gilbert pressed his body against the smaller nation's as he deepened the kiss, letting his hands trail down the other's chest.

And the best part (in his point of view) was that the other nation seemed to actually _like _this.

As Prussia miraculously found a way to get the horrid clothing off, Matthew made a mental note to express his gratitude to his family whenever he wasn't, erm, _busy_.

Not as eyegasmistic as you wanted, Prussia (from an Ask Prussia! fic, mind all of you!), but it did somehow go from the original fluff it was intended to be into the kind-of graphic (not relly) story it is now~

Love you, PJB, and hope you loved it~ I'll work on the RussiaXToaster comic, now~

Oi! Would any of you believe that my mother thought that Prussia was simply a Russian-run country located between Belarus and Ukraine?! What were they teaching kids back in the 80s?!


End file.
